


Quality Time

by Odyle



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Bonding, Ficlet, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-08 07:34:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21472348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Odyle/pseuds/Odyle
Summary: There were few things to do with a baby in hyperspace.
Comments: 26
Kudos: 621





	Quality Time

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Crait for helping to punch this up.

The Mandalorian carried the asset down the ladder, the asset pressing its face against his breastplate and making a somewhat concerning whining noise. It really wasn’t that far. He’d fallen from the upper deck to the cargo hold many times, only losing his breath when he hit the deck below. Such a fall was probably terrifying for such a small creature, he realized a few rungs from the bottom. There was no way that such a little one could have managed the climb on its own. 

The asset made noises of protest as he pulled it away from its hiding place against his chest and set it down on the floor of the cargo hold. It held its arms up to him, begging to be picked up again. 

“I need to do inventory and figure out what I didn’t get back from the Jawas. You go do something.” 

The asset looked around, its arms still raised toward him as it took in its new surroundings. Something on the other end of the hold caught its eye and it toddled away, all reservations about this new environment forgotten. 

He wouldn’t deny that he was a bit relieved to see it wander away. There were few things to do with a baby in hyperspace. He had few creature comforts for himself and even fewer for a kid. While he could pass weeks in solitude doing the routine tasks of maintaining his ship and sleeping, the asset needed constant stimulation that the environment just didn’t offer. 

The asset had slept for the first day or so, but hadn’t seemed to stop for rest since. It wasn’t old enough to occupy itself for any length of time or obey him when he told it not to touch the controls or to go back to sleep. He’d been reduced to rolling a spare sock up into a ball and throwing it a short distance away so the asset could fetch it for him. It was always delighted when it returned with its quarry and presented it to him. 

There was a clatter and a yip from the shadows of the cargo bay. He abandoned the crates of rations he’d been counting. He found his bounty clinging to one of the lower drawers in the hold. It appeared that the asset had lost its balance, falling forward onto one of the cabinets, and activating the release for the drawer. The drawer had pushed forward as it opened, frightening the asset, who was still clinging to the drawer face for support. 

"You found the important stuff."

He picked up the asset, standing it on the edge of the drawer so it could get a better look. 

“This is a DL-44 heavy blaster pistol,” he said, pointing to one of the weapons in the drawer. 

The asset looked back at him, blankly. 

“Don’t touch it,” he added as an afterthought. 

He lifted the asset and then pushed the drawer closed with his foot. The asset relaxed as he held it against his chest. 

“I have even better stuff over here.”

He carried the asset over to a locker and opened it for inspection. 

“This is a knife given to me before my first bounty hunt.” He took the knife from its place hanging from a peg and held it for the asset to see. It was a crude knife forged by an apprentice who was just learning to fold metal. He popped the fastener on the sheath and held it up to the light so the banding in the metal was apparent. “It’s a piece of junk. If someone ever offers you a knife that looks like this, they’re your enemy.” 

He looked down at the asset, who was staring at the blade. It wasn’t frightened, but seemed, instead, fascinated by the weapon. 

He slipped the sheath back in place and put the knife back. 

The asset reached out toward the blaster rifles, palm open as if trying to pull it toward itself with the Force. 

He picked it up and held it so the asset could touch it. It was hesitant to touch the rifle, reaching out only one claw for the faintest tap before recoiling. 

“You’ll have to grow into this one,” he said. “It’s three times your size.” 

_You’ll have to grow into this one._ He kicked himself. Who knew how long it would take this baby to grow up, if it ever did grow up. He certainly wouldn’t be around to see it. He wouldn’t be around beyond however long it took him to turn the asset in. 

The asset turned toward him, pressing its head into his breastplate. 

“Changed your mind? What about this one?” 

He traded the blaster rifle for a net. It made sharp clacks as the weights around the outer edge knocked together. Not the most practical weapon, but less frightening than any of his other arms. 

The asset peeled its head away from its hiding place to peek at the new weapon. Seeing that this was something much less threatening, it reached out and tangled its claws in the netting. It swung the net back and forth, giggling as the weights clacked. 

He told the asset about the importance of weapons in the Mandalorian religion. He wasn’t sure how much the asset understood, but he told it anyhow. It was important for the asset to understand why. Why he carried so many weapons, even for a bounty hunter. Why this had happened to his people. Why he was doing this. Why he planned to keep his word turn the asset over to the Imperial remnant. 

His tongue caught as he started to explain the last one. He was a man of few words and he had even fewer to explain that set of circumstances. 

He looked down at the asset, who’d fallen asleep in his arms. So much trust in him that he clearly had not earned. 

Not like it mattered. He'd be turning the kid in for his reward soon anyway.


End file.
